The Judgement Moon Pt. 02

In the Third Riding outside of the fantasy city of DunnisUrom, things are happening and a huge portent moon, the Judgment Moon, hangs in the sky as an ill omen.

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THIRD RIDING: KALVAN

Kalvan sat, relaxed (at least mostly) in the downstairs kitchen of the Matron of the Weatherthrop house. Heather and her sisters were upstairs, tending to her and had brought her food. The woman had cooked a delicious bird of some sort and basted it with a sauce he'd never tasted.

"The recipe's not from these parts," she told him. "Old Kingdom's cooking!" She was enormously proud to show her cooking off to the squire of the Dame Knight!

He had appraised her of Heather's punishment and she seemed well pleased.

"Good! I'm sure the poor thing is feeling very sorry for herself--but of all the girls she's the most given to drawing punishment and she's well of age to learn the more intricate ones. I was like her at her age--sometimes I despised my mother. Often I clung to her! It was my mortifications at her hands that helped me capture my husband, Jasob!"

"What did you think of her namesake paddle?" she asked him.

"It was quite an implement," he said, then: "Has it an art?"

She smiled, wryly.

"A kitchen art, perhaps?"

He shook his head, not understanding. 

"The name for an art not done by an artisan but by common folk. Who can say if it works or is just an illusion of expectations? When a child is born, her other plants a tree of a sturdy variety for paddle wood. Water it with sprinkles of her urine--mayhap tears.

When she reaches her menarche, enough wood is taken from the tree to make an implement with her name upon it. She receives it as a gift from her parents and will give it as a gift when she is joined in union."

"Display it in the kitchen or common room where she often is and where it may be remarked on by visitors! It is an implement used only on her--and it is held in high regard by the family and the one whose name adorns it!"

Kalvan nodded, impressed despite himself. "A Kitchen Art, then," he said. "Well, it certainly provoked a fine reaction from her. She seemed to clench herself with each swat, although the burr punished that strongly."

Her mother nodded.

It was then that they heard movement outside: the sound of a massive horse. His mistress had arrived.

THIRD RIDING, RIDING SQUARE : JASNI

According to the Handbook for Tamed Brats, it was important to always pee and otherwise use the toilet before attending a correction service. If denied the use, it was implied that the discomfort of holding one's bladder was intended to add to the corrective spirit. I was allowed to by Emily (who was supposed to be 'Miss Emily,' according to the book--titles were very important when being disciplined). From what I understood, with her looming over me in the out-toilet while I struggled to relax my bladder, she was to escort me across the street to the splinter-enclave wherein I would wait until the purity service began (and I would be assessed and punished)--and then I was to stay in the care of the awful people until she was done arranging for travel.

To say that I was unhappy about this was an understatement but she, and her book, were clear that arguing with her would be worse than useless. She insisted on wiping me which made me blush down to my chest and then got me up.

And... The Moon! I stood, looking up, feeling a jolt of surreal terror at the enormous ghostly shape that hovered above us. It was the morning and things were bright. I'd seen the common moon in the daylight some times of the year--but this? This was dominating the sky above us. It appeared translucent, spectral. Ominous.

"It's a Judgement Moon," Emily told me, her voice showing that she was unsettled as well.

"My father says the portent-moons are just reflections off of the air and sky," I said. I'd heard of the phenomena, but I'd never seen one of these things. Under its oppressive size, it didn't appear quite real--but it also didn't seem to be a reflection. Emily didn't respond to that.

"It's a punishment omen," she said. She took my hand and pulled me across the street from the Caged Cock to the splinter-enclave.

I was placed with six other girls, all of whom looked unhappy to be there. Two were about my age. The rest were older. I could see marriage bands on their fingers. Wives within their first four years, from the metals used. Their husbands must be making them come, I thought dismally. There was another section for boys, and two young men waited uncomfortably on stone benches.

I wanted to ask what the procedure was, but we were admonished not to talk. We were in a small open courtyard off to the side of the main building with a wall around it and I could look up and see the Judgment Moon appearing to fill the sky above our heads. I dealt with this by not looking up.

"You, girl--Jasni?" The voice was feminine and, despite the bruskness of the words, sounded kind to me. An acolyte, maybe a few years younger than I beckoned to me. She stood in the doorway where we'd been called one at a time.

"You ma call me Miss Tassi," she said, with a smile that made her seem entirely too happy. "Let's get you assessed." I was told to remove my shoes and socks and place them in a shelf with many small compartments, a few of which had already been filled.

"You needn't disrobe until you're told to," she said, which was said as if it were meant to make me feel more at ease, but had the opposite effect.

"Your governess explained that you are from the territories and had never attended a purity service before," she said gently. She brought me to a padded bench next to a table and sat me down before taking the seat across from me, as though we were going to dine together.

"Did you pee this morning?" was the first thing she asked. UGH!! I nodded.

"Yes, Miss Tassi," she prompted me.

"Yes, Miss Tassi," I said. I felt my voice betrayed my general feelings about this, but she accepted that.

"The main enclave has a karmic balance," she said, as if I was to know what that meant. "We don't, of course, so we have to get by." She gave me another smile that I thought indicated some degree of chagrin at having to perform without whatever it was she was talking about.

"Let's start here." She brought out a box. It was old and wooden and had the unmistakable carving of a vulva on the top of it. I was blushing furiously when she opened it. Inside was a round stone that fit comfortably in my palm.

"It's not nearly as good as a purity wand," she said, placing it there. "But sometimes one can--oh!" It had changed color, a slight swirl of pink below the polished surface. "Dirty fingers!" she laughed. I feel I must have been bright red as she took the ball, the swirls instantly vanishing in her grip, and placed it back in the box.

"Hmm," she considered. "It can make mistakes..." she hunted in her cabinet and came back with a thermometer of a sort I had never seen. It had the graduated glass sleeve, but the liquid inside was pink, not silver, and the tip was rubber, not metal. "For now, we'll try this," she said. "Open your mouth." I did, and she placed it inside. I sat there waiting while the other "unfortunates" were marched by me. Apparently, they had confessed to whatever crimes they were to be punished for, and thus could skip this event.

She took it out, frowned at it, and nodded. "Boyfriend? Girlfriend?" she asked me.

"No," I said, disconsolately.

The look from her suggested this wasn't the right answer. I was liking her less and less by the moment!

"Very well, penitent," she said, with a sigh, indicating that she was beginning an unpleasant task, "you will go to station 3." She had a 6" square of stiff parchment with a loop of string that she draped around my neck. It said "3".

"Is three bad?" I asked.

"One of our more skilled female disciplinarians is there today," she informed me. "You'll be in good hands."

I took that to mean 'it was bad.' I might have tried to run at that point, but I didn't have my shoes.

I was escorted into a narrow room with pegs for clothes. One of the girls my age and a young wife were there, waiting. Both wore "3" signs. They were naked save for short white thin jackets that came down to their belly buttons. They sat unhappily on the wooden benches.

"... do I have to--" I gestured at the pegs. The older girl nodded and pointed to a stack of folded white jackets. UGH!

I hated undressing before these strangers--but they were both girls, so I did, and I pulled on the jacket and sat. Both of them stared at me--at my region! I realized they were both smooth and hairless; even the girl with the marriage band!

Miss Tassi appeared and clapped loudly. "Stand up, unfortunates!" she called out, and we did. She took one look at me--at my waist--and clucked, disapprovingly. "Naya! We need the hygienist! We've a dirty unfortunate!"

I was stewing and burning in embarrassment when a woman in her mid-thirties appeared and called to me. "Over here, penitent," she directed me. There was a padded bed with a porcelain washbasin at the end where my bottom would go and polished wooden blocks to either side to rest my feet on. I was certainly unused to being ordered about naked, much less called "dirty" and I could feel tears welling up.

"It is fine to cry, unfortunate," she said evenly. "But try to close your legs or resist and you shan't be able to walk tomorrow!"

She got her tears. I lay there, legs apart, sobbing as she spread a mixture on my front and then expertly shaved me there. During the few minutes of the ordeal, Miss Tassi appeared with the thermometer and a lubricant and inserted it into my anus as she worked. I had a hard time holding it, so she used her hand touching my bare bottom, to help me retain it.I cried softly throughout the procedure, but neither woman cared a thing for my misery.

Finished, the hygienist wiped me down and left me smooth and humiliatingly bare and sensitive feeling. "That may itch for a few days," the woman said. "especially where I bared you about the anus. Let that serve as a reminder that you're young, unmarried, and not in a station where you are allowed fur there."

"If you complain about it," Miss Tassi added, "Your governess has some ointment that will make the irritation worse." I sobbed desolately as she led me away.

Oh, MERCY! She was taking me to the larger courtyard out behind the splinter enclave! I was sufficiently cowed that I let her lead me out into the sunlight! OH, MERCY! There was a raised platform on the other side of the wall where there were OBSERVERS! I could see shapes there--people looking into the yard and at us! OH, NO! NO! NO!

I made to bury my face in her robes, but she prevented me. "Your punishment will serve as an example to them and their presence will make your punishment the more educational and memorable," she said. "Now come."

She led me weeping across the courtyard. I took small steps and kept my thighs pressed, but it made no difference. I felt they could see my shame, in all its dimensions, clearly. And worse, the huge shape of the Judgment Moon loomed above us.

The feeling of it looking down on me with, perhaps, disdain, was awful. My vision swam with tears.

"There's our last girl!" sang the station-3 disciplinarian cheerfully. That bitch! The woman was mature, perhaps 40? She had a sunny disposition that didn't seem at all forced despite the two pouty looking women kneeling at her feet and the crying girl being delivered! They were kneeling on a leather padded wooden platform and before them was a thick leather padded "bench" with four cuffs for wrists and ankles and shaped as a rectangle with a raised curved center so that the subject would straddle it, her knees and elbows on the ground, each limb cuffed, her buttocks slightly raised.

"I'm Miss Cassi," said the girl, cheerfully. "I'm SA punishment mistress, meaning I am technically only an acolyte but I serve as a chief disciplinarian at this splinter! You don't need to refer to me as Mistress," she continued, "although I won't punish you extra if you do!"

"Now, all three of you girls have been indulging yourself, haven't you?"

"Yes, Miss Cassi," said both of the other two in unison. I got a look from her and chimed in around my sobs. She stepped over and stroked the top of my head, approvingly.

"Now, I know our 'girl-itch' gets really bad sometimes," she said--OH UGH, THIS WAS MORTIFYING!--"but just like being potty-trained, we've got to learn to hold it...don't we, unfortunates?" She spoke exactly like a tutor imparting a lesson to young students.

"Yes, Miss Cassi," we intoned.

"I know it's uncomfortable," she said, "but that's what we must do with our urges and instincts, isn't it, girls?"

"Yes, Miss Cassi." Oh! Her bright smile was going to be the death of me!

"So today we're going to practice holding ourselves when it's uncomfortable," she said.

"Unfortunate," she pointed to the young wife. "You are first. Straddle the punishment bench and I'll explain and we'll begin!"

I was focused on the girl on all fours, her sex clearly visible under her bare bottom. It was, as with mine, utterly hairless and somewhat swollen, its petals "open." I could barely spy her clitoris. Her anus was visible--the whole thing was beyond awful. The only saving grace was that her head was pointed towards the observation platform so the viewers could only see her buttocks. That was bad enough, though.

Especially because above that, although harder to see in the daylight, was the massive shape of the Judgment Moon.

Miss Cassi made a show of examining the rear of the unfortunate, slightly pulling a buttock to the side to better gaze at her private areas.

"I hope everyone has been to the toilets," she said with a sense of pleasure that suggested this was a humorous possibility.

"Now, I expect all of you girls to maintain yourselves through this punishment," she said. "We're going to get used to having some urgency," she patted the girl's buttocks, "and holding ourselves through it. If you fail, you're going to be in an absorbant in a naughty-chair until Middens." She gave us an encouraging smile.

Then she removed one of three suppositories from a case and, using lubrication, worked it into the girl's anus. One knuckle. Two! Three! The girl groaned. She raised her head, miserably, looking up at the observers. Was her husband there, watching??

I too looked, but while there were several small groups, the only one that stood out was a pair of shapes--one extremely obese--with what looked to be a telescope pointed up at the Judgment Moon.

Miss Cassi had an hour-glass and she set it over, the sand starting to fall. She took a small paddle with a round blade from the table and positioned herself to administer it to the girl's rear.

She waited, however, poised over the helpless young woman, watching her back rise and fall with her breath. I was transfixed--what was--OH!

The girl moaned! A sound of alarm--and followed it with a whimper. "There!" announced Miss Cassi. "You're starting to feel that, aren't you, unfortunate!" SMACK!

The girl gave a little jerk.

"It's making me--" the girl started, her voice full of tears--

"Feel very urgent, isn't it?" enthused Miss Cassi. SMACK! POW! POP! The cracks of the paddle resounded in the courtyard. "OH! PLEASE! MISS!!?" The girl squirmed in clear distress. Jasni watched her buttocks clench, desperately! She was gripping the leather restraints.

"Miss! Please!! I'm going to--"

SMAK! POP! POW! "You are going to HOLD YOUR BOTTOM, unfortunate!" Miss Cassi declared. POW! SNAP! WHAP!

The girl was sobbing now. Her rear was bright pink and her body heaved with tears. POW! POP! "Learn. To. Hold.--" POW! WHAP! SMACK! "Your. Bottom. Girl!" POP! POP! POP!

The girls' buttocks rippled under the chastisement of the paddle. Her moans got more and more husky and desperate. Her discomfort was horrid just to watch. SMAK!

The hour-glass was empty! Miss Cassi was quick about releasing her. There was a pull device that seemed to open the cuffs. The girl lept up, hands to her buttocks. Miss Cassi pointed to one of the open doorways. "There, girl!" and she ran, gripping herself. Possibly because of the pain. Possibly because of the terrible urgency!

Around us, other punishments were happening. A shame faced boy stood, head hung, hands behind his back, as a short female acolyte cupped his testicles and erect cock in her palm and scolded him. She was clearly enjoying herself. He was fighting not to bawl.

I saw two of the girls my age, performing humiliating, uncomfortable looking stretches directed by an acolyte leader. Some kind of device had been placed in their sexes and they clenched their muscles there to hold it. Their friends watched their misery from the platform.

"Un-for-tunate," said Miss Cassi in a sing-song, getting my attention. Oh--Oh no! Please, I couldn't take this. I looked at her, pleading for all I was worth with my eyes. She patted the pad. "Put your belly here, girl."

I moved to it, squatting and then laying down in abject humiliation. The scolding was finished and the boy was being hand-spanked by the enthusiastic acolyte. She had her tears from him! She was no longer blocking the full view of his erection!

I felt Miss Cassi stroke me. "Yours isn't as strong as the one I gave her," she whispered. "You can hold it--and you shall, Jasni-unfortunate." I was already in tears when I felt the horrible object against my anus. Unmoved by my crying, I felt her insert it. She was careful, pushing it deep, but making it slick with oil. I watched her turn over the sand-glass.

A moment--and, oh, Merciful Skies! I felt like I had to urgently release gas--but I knew if I did, the awful thing would have me mess. In a grip of terror, I held myself clenched as Miss Cassi began the paddling. Crisp snaps of pain offset by the horrible rising pressure. OH! NO! THE SAND WASN'T EVEN HALF WAY!

I wailed in impossible misery as Miss Cassi lectured me, with spanks to my poor bottom to keep my hands from my dirty places and to hold my spend, if lucky enough to be pleasured, until given the command to release it!

I don't know how I resisted the terrible urgency. I felt over and over that I must be about to break--but even in the terrible discomfort, the unthinkable horror of failing and the humiliation of soiling myself in front of everyone was too much to countenance. Each swat of the paddle was a horrible distraction from my all-consuming battle with my bowels. I had just entered the abject misery of realizing I had failed when she let me up and I ran, wailing, from the courtyard.

I could swear I felt the Judgment Moon following me from its perch above us.

LATER - JASNI

I, for a second time, underwent the utterly humiliating process of emptying my bowels in front of observers. In this case, it was the acolytes of the order who stood near me as I squatted over a hole, having barely made it. I squatted low, and essentially nude and gasped in horrible relief as the suppository did its work.

Having had all my sexual hair removed made me feel even worse. Even more bare and vulnerable--and then--ohh--squatting as low as I had to felt animalistic. It also flared the pain of the spanking in my bottom! I squatted and moaned in front of them. When the awful emergency passed, and I was sobbing softly into my hands, a second wave passed through me. I could see the woman who'd gone before me in the care of two acolytes having her bottom wiped by one, while sobbing into the shoulder of another.

I thought I could not endure having these girls upon me--even if they meant to help--but two came and I likewise collapsed in their arms. Being wiped by one's disciplinarians was an entirely new experience and I sobbed throughout it. They brought me to a cot and lay me on it, face down, crying into my thin pillow.